


wake up in the morning all alone

by bestliars



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Houston Aeros, M/M, Minnesota Wild, Trades, Unhappy Ending, narrative dictated by reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-21
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about how much it hurts to care about other people/hockey/anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	wake up in the morning all alone

**Author's Note:**

> I write a fair amount of Sam Gagner/John Tavares, and that ship is all about making things work even when they're really hard. This story is the anti-that. It's about giving up on things because they don't really work. This story is something I'm giving up on, kind of. Not really, because it exists, but I've given up on it being everything I wanted it to be, because reality hasn’t been everything I wanted it to be, because reality wasn't everything I wanted it to be.

They sleep together when Marco is in Houston. That's almost a given at this point. He fucks Matt, who leaves bite marks. They don't talk about it. They don't talk about anything, but they do french kiss.

Then Marco is back with the Wild, in Saint Louis, Saint Paul, then Anaheim. It isn't until Phoenix that Marco realizes Matt is avoiding him. He doesn't answer texts, doesn't pick up calls, doesn't respond to emails. Marco doesn't know why.

They have a few days in Arizona; practice, super bowl party, not enough distractions; Matt isn't talking to him.

It's so immature. It's a bratty move, and Marco doesn't know why it’s happening, and it sucks.

They lose to the Coyotes, then head home to lose to Canucks. Matt is still out of contact. Everything sucks. It isn't alright, Marco isn't alright, he wants to know if Matt is alright, he wants to know why this is happening, he wants to hear Matt's voice, he wants to know when that became something that he needed like this. It sucks.

He calls Darcy, who answers his phone like a decent human being. Marco says, "I need to talk to Matt."

"Hi Scandy, how's Saint Paul? Yes, I have been awesome lately, thanks for noticing. If you wanted to talk to Matt you should have called him."

"I have,” Marco says. “Repeatedly. He hasn't been answering."

"That probably means he doesn't want to talk to you," Darcy says.

Marco sighs. Goalies are weird. "I realize that, I just don't care."

“That isn’t very nice,” Darcy says. “You should care. Maybe that’s why he won’t talk to you, because you don’t care what he wants.”

“Darcy...”

“Fine, I’ll tell him you’re calling, but no promises. If he doesn’t want to talk, that’s it.”

“Thank you.”

The sound is muffled, like Darcy isn't holding the phone up to his face, but Marco can still hear, first footsteps, then half of a conversation, where he can only imagine Matt's answers.

"Your boyfriend's calling me,” Darcy says. Marco wouldn’t use that word. Apparently Matt takes issue with it as well. “You do know that I live here too, and that our walls are kind of thin. I am aware of what happens under this roof.” That’s not good. “You knew who I was talking about.” It’s true, that they aren’t boyfriends, but there isn’t really anyone else. “Fine, he isn't your boyfriend, I really don't care. Do you want to talk to him?"

The connection clears, and Darcy says, “He doesn't want to talk to you."

"Could you ask him why?"

"Marco wants to know why you won't talk to him,” Darcy relays the question. “Actually, I'm curious too. So?"

There's a long pause where Matt must be answering.

"That's a shit reason," Darcy says. Another pause. "Well, it's your life, who am I to tell you how to fuck it up." Darcy laughs at whatever Matt says next.

"He doesn't want me to tell you."

"But you could tell me anyway."

"But I won't," Darcy says.

"Why not?"

"Because he asked me not to, and telling you anyway would be being a bad friend. Just, give it time I guess? Or maybe that's bad advice. I don't know."

"That's really helpful. You’re really great, man.”

"Hey, I could have hung up on you instead of trying to play messenger."

That's true. Or he could have not picked up at all. That would have been the worst.

**X**

Things change fast.

Darcy gets a shutout and Marco is a healthy scratch and Matt still isn’t talking to him. Marco gets sent back to the Aeros, and they still haven’t talked, it’s been weeks, but that can’t last any longer.

Not only are they going to talk now, they’re going to be road roommates, because Matt normally shares with Darcy who’s called up as Marco is sent down. They do talk, sitting on their own beds, avoiding eye contact.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Marco says.

“Sorry,” Matt says.

“Really?”

Matt shrugs.

“It’s too bad that Darcy got called up. If it had been you, we wouldn’t have had to see each other at all.” This is a mean thing to say, and Marco knows it. He wouldn’t have said it a month ago, but a month ago Matt didn’t avoid him.

“Darcy has been the better goaltender lately,” Matt says. This is a fact, not something they could argue. Matt obviously isn’t happy with this reality. If looks could kill....

This is the man that Marco wants to talk to, wants to spend time with, wants to have close to his body. Marco never claimed it was a good idea.

“We can talk now,” Marco says.

Matt shrugs. “I guess.”

“We should talk. We should talk about why we weren’t talking. Why _you_ weren’t talking to _me_.” He has to clarify their roles in the situation.

“I’m curious, what do you think we’re doing?” Matt asks.

Marco doesn’t understand the question. “I don’t know. We’re arguing. You’re confusing me.”

“No, not right now. What _have_ we been doing?”

“I don’t know. We’ve been having fun. It’s been nice.”

Marco wonders what sort of answer Matt had been hoping for; from Matt’s blank look it seems it wasn’t the answer Marco gave him.

“Nice, yeah. And that’s fine, but it isn’t like we can keep that up forever.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Matt says.

“Because why?”

“Just because.”

Marco is exasperated. “That isn’t a real reason.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed a reason not to sleep with you.”

He doesn’t. If Matt doesn’t want to fool around anymore there’s nothing Marco can do about it. If Matt doesn’t want to do this anymore Marco can’t make him, and wouldn’t want to. He likes having sex with people who want to have sex with him. If Matt doesn’t want that anymore, well, fine. But they’ve been doing this for a while, and they were friends before it became a sex thing, and no matter what a mess they make of their private lives they’re still going to be teammates so it would be great if Marco had some idea of what was going on.

This is exhausting.

He just wants it to make sense.

“Can we just—I don’t know—Can you give me some clue about why this is happening?”

“It isn’t anything that you’ve done, or that I’ve done,” Matt says. “It’s just the way things are.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“Just stop thinking about it.”

Marco wants to stop thinking about everything. He wants to sleep. “I can’t,” he says.

“Well, try,” Matt says. “Go to bed. Maybe you’ll be able to stop thinking about it in the morning.”

Probably not, but he can try. He can go along pretending it doesn’t matter anymore; he can wait to see what happens.

**X**

There’s no such thing as a static roster, people will always be going up and down. Coyle gets sent down, because he’s a rookie and wasn’t keeping up. Matt Kassian gets placed on waivers, and clears them to join the Aeros. The instability is just a part of life in the minors.

**X**

Marco isn’t sure who has been gossiping, but apparently he and Matt aren’t going to be allowed to figure this out on their own. They’re getting interfered with, and that doesn’t make Marco happy, but at this point he’ll take any help that’s offered.

Kass says, "Give me your keycard," and Marco doesn’t think about it, even though he should, he just gives Kass his keycard. "Thanks." Kass hands the piece of plastic over to Charlie; Marco is about to object, because that's his keycard, he needs it to get into his room, but Kass is already shooing Charlie down the hall. He hopes this isn't the beginning of a prank, Matt just might kill someone.

"You and me are going to talk," Kass says, slightly ominously.

Alright then; Marco and Kass are going to talk.

"How'd you get Chuck to agree to room with Hack?" Marco asks. Matt has a reputation for being a weird roommate, which Marco has never understood, but he would admit to being biased.

"I didn't give him a choice," Kass says. "He's a rookie. I'm tall and old and scary, he has to do what I say."

"I'm amazed that worked," Marco says.

"Me too,” Kass admits. “I had a bribe all ready, but then I didn't need it."

"Planning to take advantage of how Charlie still can't drink in the States?" Marco asks.

"You know it."

"You're a bad influence, corrupting young ones."

"I corrupted _you,_ " Kass claims proudly.

Marco was twenty his first year with the Aeros. He looked old enough to be in a bar, but wasn't old enough to buy his own drinks. They played some good hockey that year, but there was also some midweek drinking, with Matt too, which led to some good and not-good choices, including some of the first times he and Matt hooked up.

Marco can hold his liquor better now.

“Well, since you didn’t have to trade any booze to the rookie that means you’re sharing it with me, yeah?”

“Sure, of course,” Kass says. “That’s probably a good idea.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, because tonight we’re gonna talk about stuff.”

Great. “Then it’s a good thing you got to keep your liquor.”

“I planned ahead and bought two bottles.”

Marco trails Kass back to the room. He gets comfortable sprawled on one of the beds and lets Kass fix him a drink. When they’re both settled in for the evening the talking starts.

"Explain it to me," Kass says. "Tell me everything that's up with you and Hack."

"Nothing's _up,_ " Marco says, "Not anymore."

"Then explain what was up _before._ "

"You were here to see most of it,” Marco says. “You should know."

"Not really," Kass says. "I saw the two of you being weird about shit, but I never had a real clue what it was about. It seemed like it was working so I never intervened. But now something's off, so well... here we are."

"I don't really know how to explain it." They were sleeping together. That's the easy answer, that's true, but it's not everything. Sex wasn't the only element of what had been going on.

"Start at the beginning," Kass says. "Maybe that will help."

Marco will try. He can't pinpoint a beginning. They didn't _get together,_ it was more like they slipped together slowly, sliding together until their bodies met.

"It kind of just happened," Marco says. "I can't remember who made the first move.”

He can't remember the first time they hooked up, or their first kiss, but he recalls that these occasions didn't happen at the same time. "We were never really serious."

“Casual can be messy,” Kass nods, sage wisdom at twenty-six.

“It wasn’t casual, we just didn’t talk about it,” Marco says.

“Generally speaking, that doesn’t work well.”

“It did for a while.”

“Well, it isn’t working anymore, apparently,” Kass says.

Marco rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“If you don’t know what it is, well.... Then what do you want it to be?”

Marco has no idea. He says, “I have no idea.”

Kass stares at him. “You know, you look kinda pathetic.”

“I feel kind of pathetic,” Marco admits.

“I’m gonna be nice to you, because you look sad—like, kicked puppy sad, so we don’t have to talk about this anymore,” Kass says. “But you boys need to figure this shit out sooner or later. It isn’t good to drag it out.”

Even Marco knows that—it might be the only thing he does know. “Yeah, I got it.”

“No, really.”

“I’ll make a plan, we’ll deal with it, I promise.”

Kass seems satisfied with this. “Good, now you tell me about all the fun you’ve had in Houston during the lockout.”

Marco laughs. They drink and catch up. He can mostly ignore whatever isn’t right with him and Matt.

**X**

In the morning Marco gets stuck thinking about _them,_ and it hurts his head, and his heart, and his everything. He needs a new way to approach the situation. He has an idea that just might work, or at least could make things a little bit better.

He has to explain it to Matt first though. In their room that afternoon he says, “I have a plan for you and me, for the two of us to get all figured out.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Marco says. “The best plan ever. Great plan. Simple. Effective.”

Matt clearly isn’t buying this.

“Here’s the plan: We’re not going to let the other team score goals.”

Matt stares.

It’s the greatest plan ever.

“We’re not going to let the other team score?”

“Yep.”

“So we’re going to do our jobs, because you’re a defenseman, and I’m a goalie. That’s it?”

“We’re going to do our jobs exceptionally well,” Marco says.

“But…solid defensive play. That’s your whole plan?”

“Yep.”

“And there’s no talking about stuff?”

Marco can’t make himself think about any of the things they should talk about without wanting to scream. “Absolutely none.” The talking can wait. It doesn’t really matter. “We just have to stop the other team from scoring goals.”

“Alright,” Matt says. “Sure. It’s just—hasn’t that been the plan from the start?”

“Well, yeah, it had been a plan, but now it’s _our plan,_ the plan for you and me, not just the plan for the team. Now it’s serious. We’re going to stop all the pucks.”

“All the pucks? That would be nice.”

“We’ll stop all the pucks,” Marco says. “Or at least enough to win.”

It seems to works for a night. They win in Rochester, 2-1. Saturday in Hamilton doesn’t go so well. It’s a 5-2 loss. Marco is minus-three for the night, and injured again. He gets hit, again, and he can tell it isn’t good. He hasn’t been at 100% for a while, and the knocks keep coming; this one might be enough to make him sit. He gets through the game. It’s a common theme in his life lately—getting through a thing and sorting out what’s wrong later.

In their hotel room that night, for the first time since Marco returned to the Aeros, Matt starts talking first.

“I don’t think the plan is working very well,” Matt says.

“No, it isn’t.” But the problem isn’t intent, it’s execution.

“Fuck,” Matt says.

That pretty much sums up Marco’s views on the game too. “Exactly.”

“I feel like—shouldn’t we be better?”

Marco shrugs. “Probably.” They should always want to be better. Even when they’re doing well, even when they’re winning, they should still want to be better.

Marco is lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t need to watch Matt.

“I don’t like it when things are outside of my ability to control,” Matt says.

Marco would ask if anyone has ever called Matt a control freak, but _he’s_ called Matt a control freak before, more than once, sometimes in reference to their sex life. He doesn’t think they need a reminder.

“Fuck it,” Matt says, and the mattress dips as he lays down beside Marco. Matt is only an inch shorter, but it still works for him to tuck his head against Marco’s neck and twine their legs together.

“This doesn’t mean—we’re not—it’s just that tonight I wanted—”

Marco doesn’t know how he could fill in Matt’s pauses. He should stop this. It can’t be healthy. This is going to wind up hurting him. Instead he finds his hand drifting to the warm skin where Matt’s t-shirt has ridden up.

Marco says, “Yeah, it hasn’t been a good night.”

They stay like that, pressed together for comfort. It would seem chaste if Marco didn’t have memories of where this could lead. After awhile they shift to pull up the covers. Marco falls asleep to the sound of Matt breathing, not the slow steady inhalations of a body at rest, but the uneven accelerations and pauses of a mind spinning and over analyzing. It doesn't bother Marco anymore, it's something he's gotten used to.

**X**

Marco watches the next game from the press box. Matt is spectacular, earning the first star in a win over the Marlies.

That night Matt says “I think we need to change our plans. I’ll stop all the pucks, all on my own—I can do that. You get healthy. Not mostly healthy, not healthy enough to play, _actually_ healthy.”

Marco considers the proposition. “That sounds good.”

“Good, then it’s a plan.” Matt nods and smiles, and they don’t say anything else that night.

**X**

Marco had been gone from Houston for most of a month. In a fit of optimism he had given up the miserable pre-furnished apartment he had been sleeping but not living in. Now that he’s back he should find someplace new, another impersonal over-air-conditioned space to rent. He won’t like it, but that is what he should do.

Darcy is still with the Wild, and is likely to be with the Wild for a while. This means Matt has an empty room. They don't talk about it, but Marco follows Matt home after the road trip and never leaves. They aren't sleeping together, and they aren't fooling around; they're just friends and teammates who don't like being lonely.

It’s actually very nice.

Marco cooks dinner because he can’t do anything else; he can’t do what he should be doing, which is playing hockey. Marco can cook dinner, Matt can’t; not really, not as well as Marco can. Matt can grill, and he can reheat, but Marco can put together a _meal_ that wouldn’t bring shame to his family. Matt’s a hockey player, all he needs in life is chicken and pasta. Marco isn’t bragging, but his chicken and pasta is better than most.

They’ve looked out for each in the past, but this is different. It isn’t as related to specific incidents, it’s days and nights of caring.

Matt can’t sleep the night before they play the Barons. He’s pacing, which means Marco can’t sleep either. He doesn’t get to play the next day, but Matt does. It will be his second start in two days. He really should sleep. Really, right now he should be too tired to be making noises in the living room. Marco can’t lie there and let this happen.

He gets up, and tells Matt, “You’re going to sleep now.”

“But I can’t,’ Matt says.

Marco doesn’t listen to this, but takes him by the hand, and leads them both into Matt’s room. He presses Matt to the bed, then lays down himself, half beside Matt, half on top of him, holding him still.

He can feel the moment when Matt agrees to go along with this. The sense of struggle leaves his body, and his hand settles against the side of Marco’s head.

“I’m so tired,” Matt says.

“So sleep,” Marco says before closing his eyes.

After that it becomes a habit. They regularly share a bed now. It's the first time they've ever done this at home, night after night, just sharing a bed, no sex. Marco likes the times when he's most of the way asleep, or not entirely awake yet, when he isn't aware of the whole world, but he can recognize the feel of a warm body beside him. It’s a feeling he’d like to keep in his life forever.

**X**

They aren’t always sweet and domestic though. They do more than bicker. They snap at each other. It will can start with something dumb, maybe about remembering to run the dishwasher, or maybe something else. The exact origin gets lost as the words heat up. It gets smarter, it gets meaner. In the end Matt says, "Some days I really fucking hate you."

That would hurt more if it wasn't mutual.

"Wow, thanks," Marco says. "Please, tell me how you really feel."

Or better yet, how about a real explanation?

That would kick ass, but Marco knows better than to ask for that. He's starting to see that Matt and explainable emotions are categorically incompatible. Looking back Marco can see that it's been this way for a long time. It's just that there is more urgency to address the issue when the feeling is inexplicable animosity, while it’s easy to ignore when it’s a whisper hinting _this might be love._

Instead of shouting, Matt sighs, and says, "I've trying to stay more even-keeled lately. I'm not ashamed of my temper, it's part of being passionate. But sometimes..."

"Sometimes you need to chill the fuck out," Marco provides.

"Yeah, I guess I do,” Matt says, and then it’s over.

Even their fights feel unsatisfactory, never reaching the emotional payoff of screaming or throwing things. It always cools off before then. They’ve always argued; it used to end in sex sometimes. That was better, ending the fight with climax and afterglow, better than what they do now, going into separate rooms to cool down.

Through all the quiet times and arguments Marco is healing. He’s so ready to be done with being injured. This isn’t how he wanted the season to go, he wants to leave it behind.

It’s a constant whisper in his head: Don't be hurt; be better, always; you can be better; don't let them see you blink. Be better. He can't do any of those things right now. Better means healthy which means being patient as he allows for his body to pull itself back together. Better isn't a state he can work towards, he has to wait for it to come to him.

A little bit better every day, every hour, every minute, every second. He wants to find the smallest measurable increment he can use to track his progress. Slowly but surely, better is happening to him.

Marco spends a lonely weekend in Houston with the team gone to play back-to-back games in Abbotsford. It’s more time then he needs alone with his thoughts. He’s so tired of not knowing what he’s doing with Matt. It’s strange, because they’re living together now, but it still feels like Matt isn’t talking to him, not really, not about what really matters.

Marco feels that it’s time to face the issue head on once the team gets back from playing the Heat. Matt gets home late in the evening.

“So about us...” He begins, but doesn’t know where to go from there. "I'm really tired of this. Of whatever it is. I don't know." Marco exhales. "I'm tired of trying so hard."

"Maybe you should go to sleep," Matt says.

"It isn't just tonight, it's been awhile."

"You'd still feel better if you got a good night's sleep,” Matt says.

With logic like this it's easy to recognize which one of them is prone to insomnia.

"I don't need more sleep." He's gotten plenty of sleep.

"What do you need?"

"I don't know."

Matt laughs. "You never do. I don't know if I've ever met anyone who is more skilled at indecision."

That isn't a nice thing to say. There aren't many reasons for them not be mean anymore.

"I need to know what's up with you," Marco says. "I know you don't want to tell me, but of all the fucked up things in my life right now, this not knowing is the one that you could fix if you wanted to. So...please. Just tell me."

"It isn't simple,” Matt says.

"So go slowly."

"It isn't nice."

"I can take it."

"Fine," Matt says. "Fine. But if this doesn't make you feel any better it's your own fault."

Marco doesn't care, he just wants to know.

"I guess I was tired too," Matt says. "Tired of the lack of definition, the lack of forward momentum, the lack of commitment. I didn't know what we were doing, I didn't know if we were anything, and I just got tired."

That almost makes sense.

"Then why didn't you talk to me?" Marco asks.

Matt shrugs. "I guess I didn't want to. You weren't there."

That isn't a good excuse. They both know it's a terrible excuse.

"I didn't really see how talking about it would fix anything," Matt says. "It's not like talking about it would make you—I don't know. It wouldn't make you be what I wanted you to be."

"What do you want me to be?" Marco asks, suspecting he won't like the answer.

"I don't know," Matt says. "Things you're not. Talking won't fix anything."

Matt could be right.

“So, you were gone, and I was happy for you, but sad for myself, and I didn’t like that. I didn’t like that your absence made me feel worse. So I asked myself, does caring about you make my life any better?” Matt pauses, which gives Marco a chance to consider the question. He doesn’t have any answer.

“I’m not sure,” Matt says. “It hurts. There’s an argument to be made that this is what love is: investment, overcommitment, influence. I think that's bullshit. Being in love should be _nice._ This sucks.”

“But what about the good things?” Marco knows there are good things too.

Matt sighs. “I don't know. Right now it doesn't balance out. The bad things cause more pain than the good things can soothe. I'm tired. I'm sick, it's making me sick, or something. This isn't a healthy relationship. Being involved with you is bad for my health.”

Marco kinds of gets it. He doesn’t want to, but he can see the logic underpinning Matt’s statements.

He can’t say Matt’s wrong about anything. He doesn’t know what they could be doing differently. He doesn’t have anything to say about it.

They don’t say anything for the rest of the night. Marco intends to spend the night in Darcy’s room, but winds up dozing on the couch. It’s the middle of the night when Matt prods him up and into his own bedroom, and Marco is too sleepy to object.

Having all that hurt out there things doesn’t change things as much as it probably should. Maybe things are fundamentally fucked up, but they’re also comfortable, at least for now. It isn’t a lasting peace, but they have other things to worry about, like hockey, or denial.

On the seventh they celebrate Matt's birthday quietly. Twenty-three isn't anything to get excited about. Twenty-three hasn’t been great for Marco, so far.

Matt gets called up the next day because Darcy is hurt. Even before that injury there had been chatter that this move had been in the cards. It has very little to do with either of their performances, it’s about taking turns sitting on the bench backing up Backstrom or starting every game with the Aeros.

Marco gets back in the game the next weekend in Charlotte. They lose on Saturday, but they win on Sunday, and he gets two assists.

They go back to Houston, and Marco’s living at Matt and Darcy’s place without either of them. He’s sleeping alone in Matt’s bed. It doesn’t feel as intrusive as he thought it would. He thinks it’s something he might get comfortable with, sooner or later.

Knowing what’s wrong with them, or at least knowing Matt’s views on it, doesn’t make Marco feel any better. He doesn’t know why he thought it would.

Kass gets traded to Ottawa. It’s a good opportunity for him, he’ll have more of a chance to play there. Trades are just a part of life. They happen and there’s nothing to do about it. Marco will miss him. Kass was with the Aeros from the first time Marco went to Houston in the spring after his season in the Q was done. Kass was loud and welcoming, a friendly guy from the very start. They’ll like him in Ottawa. But Marco liked that he was here.

Two days later Chay gets traded to Washington for a conditional seventh round pick. Such is life.

Darcy gets sent back down. It’s hard to tell whether getting to start on the farm or sitting on the bench in the majors is a bigger sign of trust from the team.

“So, I guess you’re my new roommate?” Darcy asks, dumping his bags down in the entry.

Marco shrugs. “If you want me to leave…”

“Nah, it’s fine. You were over here enough anyway.”

At the start of the season Marco hung around a lot because he didn’t want to be in Houston, but since he was stuck he intended to take advantage of the best thing to come from it: being in the same places as Matt. As the season wore on Matt stopped being the best thing, getting replaced by the weather as both their relationship and Minnesota grew cold. Marco didn’t stop hanging around, because it was better than going home and being alone.

He isn’t alone now, he has Darcy for company, which is actually very pleasant, and far less complicated than living with Matt had become.

Marco doesn’t know why that is, but he cares a lot. He maybe thinks about it more than he should. Drinking and feeling particularly maudlin, Marco even asks Darcy what he thinks of the predicament.

Darcy says, “The two of you can be as horrible as you want to each other. I think it's stupid, but it also isn't really my business.”

“No advice?” Marco asks.

“I don't know,” Darcy says. “I wish you could figure things out. I don't like being around this mess. It isn't good for you— isn't good for the team—it isn't good for anyone. It just isn’t good.”

“You think we should be better?” Marco says. This sounds familiar. It sounds like the voices in his head.

“Yeah,” Darcy says. “Be better. Why not. What else would you want to be?”

Marco has no fucking clue. They’re something alright, a few things even, but they’re not better, and Marco doesn’t see how they can get there.

Matt is sent down on the 24th. He and Darcy are switching places so Matt can play a game before the Wild have a back to back the next week. It starts in Dallas then finishes in Saint Paul, and the idea is Backstrom won’t travel, leaving Matt and Darcy to handle the Stars.

Matt starts for the Aeros on the 26th.

Marco isn’t playing.

Health is an unstable state and something Marco doesn’t entirely have at the moment. He would rather play, of course. He would rather be on the ice in front of Matt, sticking up for his goalie, and skating back to his own zone to celebrate any goals with a high five. The Aeros lose, and he wishes he had been out there, even though he doesn’t know what difference it would have made. Instead he’s stuck watching the game. It’s an interesting game to watch, he’ll give it that. The final score is 7-6. It wasn’t a good game for anyone from a defensive perspective, but it was an exciting match to watch. That isn’t the kind of score that normally gets racked up in a hockey game. To be blunt, Matt gets lit up. It isn’t all on him, but seven goals against is not a good night.

Marco doesn’t try to talk to him after the game. They still share a bed. It’s awkward, but so was sleeping alone. They start with space between them but intertwine in the night.

Matt leaves to join the Wild while Marco stays behind.

 

 

Marco has his own game to play against the Griffins so he can’t watch Matt’s start in Dallas. It’s a five-three loss to break they Wild’s win streak. They Aeros lose too. It isn’t doesn’t help to dwell on defeat. There are lessons to be found in every loss, but they have to be learned quickly, leaving the actual game behind. Matt travels back to Saint Paul, and Darcy returns to Houston, which Marco never left. They’ll all work to leave the past behind and win their next game.

Time passes one game after another, wins and losses, good games and bad games, mediocre games, achievements and mistakes. The season drags on.

It feels like trade deadline day sneaks up on them. Marco knew it was coming, but he had been trying not to worry, so the actual day takes him by surprise. He doesn’t know if he has anything to worry about personally, but there are good odds that something will happen to change his team, and he doesn’t like that.

Marco and Darcy decide together to pretend it is just another day. They play video games, with their phone ringers turned all the way up sitting on the coffee table.

Darcy’s phone rings.

They pause the game.

Marco doesn't think anything of it, it's just a phone call, it’s nothing. It could be his mother, it could be a telemarketer, it could be a prank, it could be nothing.

Unless it’s something.

Darcy gets still, and Marco is suddenly aware of how quiet the room is.

It's just a phone call.

Marco tries not to overhear.

The call ends.

The silence doesn’t.

Then Darcy takes a deep breath before saying, "They want me to pack my gear bag and go to the airport. They aren't saying where I'm headed yet. If I'm headed anywhere. It's..."

It's something alright. "You get your stuff together and then I'll give you a ride, ok?"

"Yeah. Thanks. I'll do that. That's good."

They don't mention Matt. He isn't there. He’s with the Wild in San Jose, at least for now. Darcy getting the call makes it seem like the Wild are looking to move a goalie, but so far it isn’t clear which. Darcy might be leaving Houston to join a whole new organization. Or maybe it he’ll take Matt’s place backing up Backstrom, because Matt will be gone somewhere else. Or maybe neither of them will be going anywhere at all.

Darcy gets his things, and they hit the road.

They don’t say _goodbye,_ they say _see you later._

Marco leaves Darcy in the airport, waiting for a phone call that will tell him where he’s going and what his future will look like.

Marco goes back home, and gives in to the temptation to watch the trade deadline day special on tv.

Minnesota trades Hackett and Larsson to Buffalo for Jason Pominville. There’s a rumble of picks and salary being involved as well, but that doesn’t make the headlines.

Marco knows he can’t judge this trade impartially, but he tries. It’s a lot to give up. It makes the Wild a better team right away. Darcy must be flying to San Jose. This leaves the Aeros without a starting goaltender. Marco doesn’t like it.

He’s losing Matt—no, he had already lost Matt—no, Matt had never been his. Marco doesn’t know. This ends whatever they are, closes the door on whatever they had been, forecloses the possibility of what they might have been. Maybe it’s better this way: a clean break.

Left to their own devices, without circumstances intervening, Marco could imagine their strange dynamic extending endlessly. Now they can both move on.

Marco picks Matt up at the airport. They start of saying all the thing they're expected to say, "Good luck," "Thanks, I think I'll need it," etc, etc... That gets them most of the way home. The silences that follows is mostly comfortable.

They get back and Matt is throwing things in bags. Marco tries to help, and tries to stay out of the way. He hadn’t noticed before how his own things had gotten mixed with Matt’s in the bedroom. He rescues his hoodie from a suitcase. He sorts through the clean laundry that’s been sitting in the dryer for a few weeks. They have to hurry. Matt doesn’t seem to be freaking out, but he doesn’t seem normal either. Maybe it’s shock. Marco would understand shock. (Marco might be in shock, just a little bit.) Far too soon it’s time to load Matt’s bags in the car and get going. Marco promises to box everything else up and send it to Rochester.

The car ride to the airport is infinitely uncomfortable. Marco wonders if they're going to talk about it. He doesn't know if he wants to. There isn't a much to say.

It isn't up for him to decide, because Matt says "We're not going to try anything, are we?"

"We were hardly trying while we played on the same team," Marco says. "Of course we're giving up for real now."

"If things were different though..." Matt starts.

Marco doesn't let him finish. "It doesn’t matter — they aren't."

Matt's sighs, a familiar expression of exasperation. Marco doesn't know if he'll miss it.

Matt says, "I was going to say that if things were different we might have been something really special."

Nothing good comes from imagining alternative realities.

"Yeah, maybe,” Marco admits.

It doesn't matter. They don't have much else to talk about. Marco gets out of the car to help Matt load his bags onto a cart. There’s a moment where they’re both standing there, and it’s so awkward, it hurts so much. Being around Matt used to be so easy, but that time is long gone.

Marco doesn’t know how to say goodbye. He’s a bit surprised when Matt hugs him, but as he leans into the contact it does feel right. They stay together for a good amount of time, but nothing that would draw attention. They’re just friends and former teammates going in different directions.

Marco doesn’t watch Matt disappear into the crowd. He turns and starts walking towards the car. He starts driving, and keeps thinking about the future.

The Wild and the Sabres will play each other twice next year, but there's no guarantee that either of them will be on those teams. The only way Aeros and the Amerks could meet is in the Calder Cup Finals. Still, it's possible that next year they'll play against each other in the NHL. Marco would be trying to get shots past Matt for _real_ , not just for practice or exhibition. No more shared high fives. If Marco's team scores it would mean that Matt did something wrong. It would be pretty weird.

But there's a fair chance it'll never happen. That's all just a hypothetical. Thinking that far ahead is almost a waste of time. The past offers more stability than the future. It has already happened, the only questions are those of interpretation.

Marco doesn't know what to make of everything with Matt. He doesn't know what to call it. There were very good parts and very bad parts and plenty in between. He doesn't have the distance to see where the balance landed, if it was a good or bad experience. He does know that it is something he will carry with him into the great unknown of what comes next.

**X**

_Love Poem_

       It’s so nice  
to wake up in the morning  
       all alone  
and not have to tell somebody  
       you love them  
when you don’t love them  
        anymore.  
  
-Richard Brautigan

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Stellarer for being the best beta, and really the best everything. Thanks to Pax for encouraging this. Thanks to people on twitter to answered a question about capitalization.


End file.
